Vengeance
by PerfectCosima
Summary: The Ice Nation and Trigedakru have long been enemies, and after all of these years, war has come. Carmilla/The 100 crossover.
1. Chapter 1

The tall warrior came rushing down from the mountains, her red hair flowing behind her. An easy target.

Lexa regretted the means that she had taken, as much as she could regret anything in war. The Ice People had to be stopped before too many died. The only way to do that was to remove the queen.

Clarke had taught Lexa chess, although she already knew strategy. Now she wished that the hadn't. The tiny girl seemed too fragile for the prison cell, although she knew that she must be just as strong as any of her kru. Maybe it was that she knew she was a healer, knew she was peaceful, that she objected so much to Lexa's plan.

The trap was set.

Lexa had hoped that the heda would come herself, rather than working through a second. Not that it mattered. She could pick them off one by one, and eventually Kormela would come to her, and she could get her revenge.

That was the truth of the matter. Revenge. Peace was good, but she could never forget what they had done to Costia. She could never forgive. Even when she had another woman by her side at night, the memories of her lost love haunted her, her breathing frantic as she woke up from nightmares that frequented her sleep much too often.

The archers let the girl reach camp before readying their bows. She was yards away from her goal when they let them loose, and she fell.

Lexa pretended not to hear the screams.

Clarke couldn't.

She snuck away from the med tent, unable to keep herself away as she saw trigedakru closing in to finish the job.

"Em laik ain," she commanded, her voice not revealing the shakiness inside. There was no way that the girl could survive, but she deserved a death befitting a second, not whatever butchery trikru would enact for their own selfish means.

The girl inside the cell was crying, tears streaming down her face as she reached through the bars toward the girl laying prone on the ground only feet away.

It was her that Clarke turned to as the trigedakru warriors dispersed, allowing her to approach.

"Beja," the healer pleaded, her accent odd and foreign. "I love her."

Clarke looked away. "I'm sorry," she said softly, pulling a knife from the warrior's own belt. "The arrows are poisoned, and her wounds are deep. There is nothing I can do." The words were lies, but maybe those lies would let the girl sleep again, eventually, when the pain faded away. The idea that there was nothing that anyone could have done.

And who knows, maybe the message would get back to the Ice Nation. The healers tried. They didn't just slaughter people. Clarke knew that they were watching, peering down from their alpine outpost. Maybe then they would know that trigedakru weren't barbarians. Maybe then there could be peace.

The knife parted flesh without resistance, the pale white of the girl's throat turning a red that rivaled her hair.

"Danny!" The cry was strangled, raw, and Clarke almost wished that she could take it back, that she could save her, if just for the girl that reminded her so much of herself.

"Yu gonplei ste odon."

She stood up, brushing off her knees, and gesturing to the body, telling her warriors with a few sharp phrases to take care of the body.

It was then that the heard the wail. It was eerie, the way that it travelled so clearly from the mountaintop. It was grief. Pure, unadulterated grief.


	2. Chapter 2

"Clarke, what did you do?"

"What I had to."

Lexa was furious, pacing back and forth in their tent. "You have to leave. Go to Tondc; I can protect you there."

"I don't need your protection, commander, and my people need me here."

"I can't put you in danger, Clarke."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it before."

Lexa sighed. "You know I'm sorry about that," she said, reaching out absently to straighten Clarke's armor.

Her hand was pushed away.

* * *

It was too late anyway. The Ice Nation had descended on the camp by nightfall. The fighting hadn't started, but the figures among the trees were visible in the flickering firelight.

Then it happened. The heda walked out into the camp. Everyone was frozen, hardly daring to breathe as Lexa walked out to meet her.

"What do you want, Carmilla?" Lexa asked, her voice cold and stony.

"My people," Carmilla replied. The Ice Nation's leader was dressed in stark contrast to not only trikru, but her own warriors. White leather, and chalk warpaint marked her status. She did not hide from battle, she had no need for camouflage. She fought, she conquered, and then, stained with the blood of her enemies, her wardrobe was discarded and replaced.

It was almost heresy to Trigedakru, the people who wore their scars and tears as badges of honor, the people who hid in the forest, stepping without a sound toward their victory, to victims who would never see them coming.

"And one of yours."

Clarke stepped back into the shadows, not realizing that it was a mistake until hands came down over her mouth, and she was pulled backward, into the trees, into the new dominion of the invaders.

* * *

"Never."

Carmilla just smiled in reply to the threatening tone of her fellow commander. A dangerous smile. A smile that shows that a person has nothing left to lose. "I don't think you're really in the position to be bargaining, sweetheart."

"I thought that bargaining was what this was, Carmilla," Lexa replied, not rising to the bait.

Carmilla laughed sharply. "Oh, no, Leksa, this isn't a negotiation. This is a social call." She smirked. "Maybe an apology. I'm sorry that I had to take another from you. Your precious lovers seem to be just too good at messing things up."


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke screamed as the burning hot poker made contact with her chest, a new torture, a painful one. She should be thinking of herself, of her life, of Lexa, but all she could think about was the way that the poker was adding death marks to her flesh, and how, if the tradition were to be upheld, there were still many more that she deserved.

* * *

Carmilla was emotionless as she ordered Kirsch to press the burning hot metal against the girl over and over.

She didn't cry in front of her people, and she didn't break. No matter how much she wanted her hand to crack against the face of the girl who killed the one she loved, she couldn't. Her screech in the mountains had already been too much. She couldn't afford to lose their respect. She was the queen of the ice, and she did as she pleased. This girl could not be allowed to live when the same courtesy hadn't been extended to Danny.

_Danny._

Sharp words and the girl screams.

_Danny._

Again.

_Danny._

Revenge.

* * *

Lexa was worried. All of skaikru was worried. Clarke was missing. More than a healer, she was their heda, their friend.

The first night, she'd simply assumed that Clarke wanted to be alone. She was strong, but Lexa knew how much it still hurt her; the killing. It wouldn't be the first time that Clarke had slept in the med tent when she simply had to be alone.

The second day, she knew that something was wrong. Nobody could find her, and it wasn't like Clarke to just disappear. They searched everywhere, but she was gone.

The Ice Nation.

She couldn't mount an offensive that day. Night would pass, and daybreak would come, and their warriors would sneak into the forest and get her back. They had to.

The nightmares returned, and this time Clarke wasn't there to kiss them away.

* * *

The fire burned day and night, and the girl's screams weakened to mere whimpers, and then to nothing.

Carmilla's blade was sharp, and she stepped forward, pressing it against the girl's throat.

"This is how you did it."

Steel parting flesh, a battle with the same outcome no matter how many times it is repeated.

Silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Day broke, and Lexa was organizing gonakru when a cry came up from a someone on watch.

A single stranger marching toward the camp, armed only with a spear.

Lexa went out to watch them approach, and when they were close enough for her to see them clearly, her composure cracked, and she threw up in the bushes.

Not another.

Not again.

Mounted on the spear was the head of a girl, her long blonde hair identifying her immediately to all who watched.

Not Clarke too.

* * *

"Jus drein jus daun!"

The warrior had planted the spear in the ground outside of the camp, and left. No one had shot a single arrow after them.

The war cry echoed through the camp.

They marched out, prisoner in tow.

The battle was going strong. Sword, and spears, and knives, the arrows and guns discarded in favor of close combat.

Lexa felt no remorse when she plunged her knife into Carmilla's heart.

She should have done it long ago.

* * *

The prisoner escaped her bonds, and rushed forward, crying out as she saw her commander get struck down.

She collapsed on her knees beside the body, pressing her hands to the wound, desperately trying to keep Carmilla alive.

Carmilla smiled. There was no reason to be strong. "Let me go, Laura," she said softly. "There's no point in me staying here without her."

Laura nodded, tears filling her eyes as she bowed her head, whispering the words into Carmilla's ear, making it so that she could be with Danny.

As soon as Laura was finished, Carmilla's eyes fluttered shut, and she let out her last breath, leaving the world forever.


End file.
